


he lets go

by rat_problem



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mentioned Heidi Hansen, OOC, OOC Evan Hansen, Overdose, SO, Successful Suicide Attempt, Suicidal evan hansen, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Trans Evan, Trans Evan Hansen, also this isnt mentioned in the fic but, angry evan hansen, but like. you cant see it???, derealisation, evan hansen dies, evan hansen hates the world, evan hansen lets go but... different, heidi chose dr sherman cuz they were nonbinary and she wanted evan to have someone to connect to, heidi hansen has depression, i dont know how to tag lmao, might be ooc im just. projecting, no beta we die like men, non binary dr sherman, pure angst, sorry - Freeform, spoilers in tags, there is no happy ending sorry, this is a vent fic, trans evan hansen in da tags, trigger warnings in tags, tw, unhappy evan hansen, vent - Freeform, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26929474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rat_problem/pseuds/rat_problem
Summary: evan hansen is unhappy.hes going to do what he needs to do.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	he lets go

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is ANOTHER vent fic wow.
> 
> anyway please check the tags for the trigger warnings!! also this fic was written with evan being trans in my mind because if youre gonna project onto a character you have to p r o j e c t yknow?

Evan sighs, trying to figure out how to properly word his thoughts.

Dr. Sherman waits patiently in front of him. What was probably meant to be a reassuring smile gracing their lips. They scrunch their face up and their glasses slip down their face, they push them back up hastily. 

Their glasses don't fit properly. 

They need like a. A fucking new frame or some shit.

Evan doesnt know, fuck, why does it even  _ matter _ .

He’s never been the most observant why is he focusing on his therapist’s fucking glasses while they’re waiting for him to fucking. Spill his deepest darkest secrets.

He doesn’t think he can do it.

He knows he needs to but.

He can't.

He needs to breathe probably.

That'd help a bit.

Maybe.

Dr. Sherman sighs and pushes up their glasses again.

That must be really fucking annoying damn.

“ _ Hey, _ ” they begin, Evan squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to prepare himself for what his therapist will say next, “I understand it must be hard for you,”  _ do you? _ Evan knows hes being petulant but who the fuck cares its not like anyone can read his thoughts, “but you must know how crucial it is to,” they snap their fingers a couple times, a searching look on their face, they forget words a lot. You’d be surprised how much time at therapy is filled with Evan’s therapist trying to remember a word and then forgetting their train of thought and then were back at the  _ fucking beginning  _ and Evan is so tired of this  _ fucking bullshit. _

He lets himself zone out.

He thinks about how great it is  _ not  _ talking about his feelings and internalising all his utter fucking bullshit while he gets his mom to pay for this waste of fucking time and fuck fuck fuck the rooms gone quiet and Dr. Sherman is just  _ looking at him  _ and Evan feels  _ sick sick sick sick sick sicksicksicksicksicksicksick- _

He lets out a gasp for air.

He feels Dr. Sherman’s hand on his knee.

“ _ Hey,  _ just,  _ talk to me.  _ Help _ me  _ understand so that I can help _ you. _ ”

And Evan lets it out in a rush of air, he doesn’t think he let himself breathe once.

“I-I'm just. I’m very-just-just-just-just. I’m. Small? And-and-and-and-and-and weak?? And. I'm tired of like. Living for other people and not myself? I’m just. I don’t want to like. Stay alive for someone else because it’s. It’s-it’s-it’s-it’s actually super annoying? Like. Like-like-like-like-like-like-  _ oh for fucks sake-  _ like. They're. Trying. To. Guilt. Me. In-. To. Stay-. Ing. A-. Live,” Evan manages to force out. Taking extra care not to stutter on the last couple words.

It all comes out stunted and  _ wrong.  _

It's not.  _ Him. _

_ It's someone else.  _

He doesn't even know who he even is.

Evan Hansen? Who the  _ fuck  _ is he?

He's constantly one of two states; wishing he were someone else and wishing he just wasn't real at all.

Dr. Sherman is saying something but who the  _ fuck  _ even  _ cares. _

Not  _ this _ guy.

He needs to get  _ out. _

He's suffocating.

The room is too empty and too full the walls aren’t closing in,  _ he's just getting bigger. _

His breathing is laboured, he's panting he's panting he's panting, he needs to get  _ out. _

He’s fucking  _ trapped though. _

He’s fucking. Locked in here with this person his mom pays for him to talk to and he doesn’t even. He doesn't even  _ talk _ to them.

He’s wasting his moms fucking. Money  _ fuck fuck fuck  _ he’s such an ungrateful little shit he’s so fucking. Wrong and bad and  _ wrong and bad and wrong and bad and wrongwrongwrong and badbadbad and- and- and- and- and- and- _

And?

And  _ what? _

What the fuck is going  _ on? _

He’s crying in the worst possible fucking way there is snot  _ everywhere  _ he is drip drip dripping onto his plain gray shirt and his therapist is handing him a small, disposable plastic cup of water and, “arent these like. Harmful to the environment?” 

Dr. Sherman just. Shrugs.

He drinks the water.

It's lukewarm and kinda gross but he'll take what he can get.

They wait a couple minutes, seconds or maybe possibly even hours before Dr. Sherman clears their throat.

“Our session seems to be over, thank you for sharing with me. It feels like we might be making some real progress!”

Evan isn't really there.

When was the last time anyone said his name?

He doesn't remember.

He doesn't really-

He doesn’t really feel. real?

He just  _ doesn't. _

~

He blinks and he finds himself stepping off the bus.

The stop’s ten minutes or so from his house.

He's kind of exhausted so he opts to sit down for a couple minutes at the bus stop.

It'll take fifteen minutes to get to his house now.

Nobody there to notice.

Would anyone notice if he disappeared?

No.

He honestly thinks he's disappearing from himself. If that even makes sense.

He's not even sure if anything that’s happened has really. Happened?

Who the  _ fuck _ cares.

_ He  _ sure fucking doesnt.

~

He's at home.

He calls out for his mom.

No reply.

He thinks back to what he and Dr. Sherman talked about in therapy.

He doesn't remember.

It probably wasn't important anyway.

They probably said something like, “feels like we’re making some real progress here” like they do every session.

He takes in a deep breath.

Shuts his eyes tight tight tight.

He exhales.

He swallows.

He's lost himself, he realises.

He's not really anything.

He breathes some more and lets Evan Hansen go.

He’s.

_ Nothing. _

~

He watches his feet trudge toward the kitchen cabinet where he knows his mom keeps her bottle of antidepressants.

He briefly feels a flicker of guilt at depriving her of her meds but. She stopped taking them around the same time he stopped taking his xanax whenever he needed them so it's not like she'll  _ miss _ them.

It's not like she'll miss  _ him. _

Actually that's a lie he knows that what he's about to do will actually crush his mom but sometimes you need to be  _ selfish. _

He's tired of living for other people and not himself.

If you cant live for yourself then whats the fucking point in living at all.

And fuck  _ you  _ he  _ has  _ tried to live for himself but he  _ can’t _ .

He can’t fucking do it.

So he’s gonna fucking  _ do  _ what he has to fucking  _ do. _

He takes the bottle.

~

He finds himself reaching for his box of meds and carefully takes out his full bottle of xanax.

He's not. Exactly the definition of calm right now.

His hands are shaking and his breathing is speeding up but for fucks  _ sake  _ his brain cant kick into self preservation mode when he’s this fucking close to doing what he’s meant to do.

He slowly sits cross-legged on the floor.

He tries in vain to steady his breathing.

It doesn't matter.

Nothing’s going to stop this from happening.

  
  


He holds out his arm for the bottle of water by his bed.

He begins.

He doesn't know how many he takes but it's just. It’s a fucking  _ lot  _ holy  _ shit. _

It's not. He can't. He’s. He’s. He’s.

What the fuck.

He doesn't remember much of what happens when you overdose but isn’t it like. Super fucking painful??

_ Fuck  _ he’s going to vomit and his body’s gonna look so fucking  _ gross  _ and  _ wrong  _ and fucking  _ weird. _

He laughs at how stupid he’s being.

Why does he fucking  _ care  _ how his body’s found?? It's not like he'll be there.

He's losing himself again but this time in. A different way?

Is this what dying feels like?

_ Is this what dying feels like? _

Almost all of him is screaming that this is  _ wrong  _ and that he  _ shouldn't be doing this. _

But for once in his pathetic fucking life he doesn’t listen to the voices in his head.

He lets go.

He lets go.

He lets go.

And then there’s nothing left.

**Author's Note:**

> hey sorry you had to sit through this if there are any spellin mistakes in the actual fic dont be like. scared to tell me lmao also i am aware tyat this sucks and has no like. proper anything i wrote this at 2-4am and finsihed editing it at 11am and i wasjusy. not doing that good lmao


End file.
